things related to sound, visual art, architecture, modernism, music, design, fluxus, 78's, literature, film, ephemera, and much more ...basically a space to share "the collection", much of which serves as inspiration for my work...
poor flowers in beds in neatly trimmed gardens.
they seem to be afraid of the police...
but they're so good they bloom in the same way
and have the same ancient smile
they had for the first glance of the first man
who saw them appear and touched them lightly
to see if they would speak...
image early hand colored cdv of flowers
text: poem from fernando pessoa's the keeper of sheep
i'd give anything if only my life were an oxcart i'd have no need of hopes - i'd need only wheels...
squeaking down the road, early one morning
and later returning to where it started,
toward nightfall, down the same road.
as i grew old i'd have no wrinkles or white hair...
when i'd be of no further use, they'd pull off my wheels
and i'd lie there overturned and broken, at the bottom of a pit.
the poem is from fernando pessoa's 'the keeper of sheep'. it somehow feels very much connected to the photo (a recent find). it's not just the fact that the man being enveloped by light might have a broken wheel or two of his own, and that maybe he too would rather live with no need of hopes. he might even, perhaps, at times, also, lie overturned and broken... but more so it feels that if you read the words and look at the picture you can imagine the poem gently falling out of his mouth in song, and you can hear it echoing about in the loneliness of his room...
fernando pessoa, the education of the stoic
Labels: pessoa, small emotions, sound, truth itself
